


Sidelined

by veridian



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-04-21 19:32:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14291877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veridian/pseuds/veridian
Summary: Lancelot visits Vane every day, despite keeping busy with his duties as Captain of the White Dragons. Some days he has hours to spare, others mere minutes, but neither hell nor high water keep him from his trips to the hospital.





	1. busted

**Author's Note:**

> my fondness for "lan-chan" and my desire for consistency with the localization left me arguing with myself right up until i hit the post button and i ended up going with lancey after all
> 
> just know he's lan-chan in my heart
> 
> anyway ssr vane's entire gameplay style revolves around getting the shit kicked out of him...so i wrote...a thing...where he got the shit kicked out of him. it made sense in my head and i'm also a fucking sucker for dumb idiots who don't think for a second about literally dying for their loved ones, VANE,

The last thing Vane remembers thinking is absolutely nothing at all as he dives to block an incoming attack aimed at Lancelot. 

How unfortunate then, he muses to himself, that what he was thinking is the very first thing Lancelot asks about as soon as he’s awake.

“I asked you - what were you thinking?!” he demands again, when Vane’s first response is an absent stare.

“I just…” Vane shrugs, laughing weakly until his broken ribs catch up with him and leave him wheezing. “You know,” he sputters.

“I don’t know! If I did, I wouldn’t be asking!”

He’s never seen Lancelot this angry in his life - well, no, that’s not true, but it’s never been directed at him before, and it leaves Vane a little unnerved. “Are you okay, Lancey?” he asks, his voice smaller than it’s been in years.

The question hits Lancelot like a ton of bricks, and he falls to his knees like a string holding him up has just snapped. “Unbelievable,” he mutters to himself, once, twice. “You almost died and you’re asking if _I’m_ okay.”

Vane tries to raise a hand to give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, but his arm won’t move. He looks down at it for the first time since waking up and realizes it’s broken too. Dimly, as though his body is just now realizing it’s hurt, he can feel pain setting in, throbbing in time with his heartbeat.

“I really screwed up, huh?” he says, his tone as casual as he can make it, experimentally squirming in bed to see what else won’t move. One of his legs is bound from the ankle all the way to the hip, the other from the knee to the ankle. Vane vaguely remembers something swiping at his legs, but not enough to remember what kind of wounds are under the bandages.

“Stop it!” Lancelot hisses, jerking upright and back onto his feet. “Moving will just make it worse!” His hands flex at his sides as he resists the urge to shove Vane back down onto the pillows, but the worry on his face is so pronounced Vane can’t help but lay back anyway. He stares at the ceiling, suddenly aware of how stiff his neck is.

“How long have I been out?” he asks, the gravity of his injuries slowly becoming more apparent.

“Two days.” Lancelot barely sounds like himself; there’s no life in his voice at all. “Two whole days. They said…” He trails off, voice uncharacteristically weak, before starting over. “The staff here said it was a miracle you’re still alive.”

Vane wiggles once more while Lancelot is distracted, this time pleased to discover that the last limb he tests out is more or less operational. He extends his good arm, palm facing upward, and Lancelot takes his hand and squeezes it, brushing his lips against Vane’s bruised knuckles. 

He attempts to explain himself. "My body just moved on its own.” Lancelot doesn’t reply, lips still pressed against the back of Vane’s hand. “You didn’t get hurt too, did you?”

This is apparently enough to merit a response, because he gets one this time. “No,” Lancelot says, shaking his head. “I…”

“Then,” Vane says, smiling brightly, “I did it.” He’s proud of himself, despite his injuries; if anything, knowing Lancelot made it out of the fight unscathed when he himself got the stuffing knocked out of him is all the more reason to feel accomplished.

Lancelot’s expression turns severe, his face pales, but he doesn’t say anything. Vane, having nothing else to look at _besides_ Lancelot, withers somewhat.

But he doesn’t say anything, either.

What feels like an eternity passes as Lancelot wordlessly holds Vane’s hand, looking the entire time like he wants to say something. Looking, every time, like he’s failing to find the words. Finally, Vane tries one more time: “Are you angry at me, Lancey?”

“Of course not. The one I’m angry at is myself.” Lancelot puts his other hand on Vane’s, as well, holding it tight. “What if you never woke up? What if I had to bury you, all because of a moment of distraction in battle? What if I...what if I’d lost you?” Calm, composed Lancelot is using every ounce of self-control in his body to keep from crying on the spot, and Vane would give anything for the ability to move to comfort him. As it is, all he can do is shift awkwardly in bed.

“I’m sorry,” he manages, his voice quiet and subdued. “I didn’t...I wasn’t...you asked me what I was thinking, but I wasn’t really thinking anything at all.”

“That’s what terrifies me.”

Vane waits for him to elaborate, but Lancelot seems to think his words are sufficient.

They stay like that, silent, hands joined, until a nurse politely enters the room and tells them visiting hours are over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've been writing a lot of lucisan but lanvane is baby's first granblue ship so i hope to write a lot of it in the future as well


	2. ache

“Lancey,” Vane says excitedly as soon as he sees him behind the pair of nurses tending to his arm, “tell them I can cook my own meals!”

“Absolutely not.” Vane’s expression is one of utter betrayal, and Lancelot can’t help but chuckle to himself despite the situation. “You need to be resting, Vane.”

“All I ever do anymore is rest! It’s only been a week and I already never wanna rest again!” As soon as the nurses clear out of the room, Vane’s reaches out toward Lancelot, who takes his hand as usual. “Though it’s kinda nice to have you doting on me so much.” He gives Lancelot an easy smile.

“Clearly not enough, if my doting isn’t enough for you to stay put.” Lancelot squeezes his hand. “How are you feeling today?”

“My legs are killing me,” Vane sighs, knowing there’s no point in lying. “They already gave me something to help with it, so I just have to wait it out. But I felt better as soon as you came in!” he adds when he sees concern creeping into Lancelot’s eyes. “And they said that much pain is pretty normal, anyway.” That concerned look hasn’t faded at all, so he continues, “If it gets so bad I can’t handle it, I’ll tell the doctor, okay? But I wanna be conscious for visits from my boyfriend.”

How is Lancelot supposed to argue with that? He raises his free hand in a defeated motion. “Alright, fair enough. Just don’t overdo it.”

Vane grins at him, bright as the sun. “Thanks for coming to visit me again today, Lancey.”

“It’s as much for my own benefit as it is yours. It’s lonely without you...it reminds me of the days before you became vice captain.” Lancelot rubs the back of Vane’s hand with his thumb. “I keep glancing back to see if you’re there...even though I know right now you can’t even walk.” That seems to remind him of something, because the morose look on his face melts into something more curious. “The doctors wouldn’t tell me when I asked...do they anticipate you’ll be on your feet soon?”

“They’re calling in some healers next week, I guess. I’m not really that great at remembering big medical terms, so I can’t tell you all the little details, but they said it’d take more than six months to heal by itself. And I don’t have that kind of time, so...we’re gonna see what they can do to help.”

“If you need that much time, then - ”

“No,” Vane says, stubbornly. “You just told me you miss me, so now I really need to get better as quickly as I can!”

Lancelot smiles fondly at him. “Don’t overdo it,” he repeats, squeezing his hand again.

Vane makes a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. “Lancey,” he groans, “you can’t be so handsome while I can’t even hold you.”

“A compromise, then.” Lancelot stands, never letting go of Vane’s hand, so he can bend at the waist, his face inches from Vane’s. “You can still kiss me, right?”

“I’ll get you back for this,” Vane mutters, blushing to the tips of his ears, as he cranes his neck to close the distance between them. It’s the first time they’ve kissed in a week - the longest time they’ve had to endure without the taste of each other’s lips since they began dating - and their time apart has left them both ravenous. Lancelot’s free hand moves to cup the side of Vane’s face as their tongues entwine with one another in a passionate dance. Vane whimpers against Lancelot’s mouth, frustrated that this is all he can do when in this moment he wants so much more.

Lancelot pulls away far too soon for his liking, eliciting another disquieted groan. “I’d love to stay,” he says, voice breathy, “but I can’t put off my paperwork any longer. If I get it all done today, I’ll have all day tomorrow to spend with you, and you'll have all that time to get back at me.” He kisses Vane again, quickly and roughly. “I love you, Vane.”

“I love you too, Lancelot.” He pulls his hand to his mouth, kissing it. “There are some cookies in the third drawer of my desk if you want them.”

In a matter of seconds, an excited glimmer in Lancelot’s eyes completely overtakes his attempts to look sultry. “ _I love you, Vane._ ”

Vane laughs as he watches Lancelot go, then settles back in bed, grimacing in pain. He’s not sure if he’s going to be able to sleep tonight, with how badly his legs are aching.

As if on cue, a nurse rushes in with a syringe in one hand. “Sir? Are you okay?”

“What’s that for?” he asks warily, staring at the needle.

“The gentleman who was just visiting you said you were in pain, and that you needed assistance, so I…”

Vane chuckles. “I really can’t get anything past him.” He holds out his arm. “Thanks, miss.”

“It’s no problem.” She gives him a cheerful smile. “Now, it’s going to pinch just a little…”

He’s still not really enthusiastic about the idea of needing painkillers, but Lancelot did just tell him twice not to overdo it. And besides, the more he rests today, the better shape he might be in tomorrow.

He dimly remembers several minutes later, as sleep takes hold of him, that Lancelot told him he finished all of his paperwork yesterday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> smooth moves lan-chan
> 
> im probably gonna have to up the rating for the next chapter.......wew lads


	3. mend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nothing like putting vane and lancelot on a team for xeno ifrit to put you in a lanvane mood right

When Vane wakes up the next day, still groggy, Lancelot is already sitting beside him, nose buried in a book. Vane squints at it, trying to read the title without giving away that he’s awake; he rarely gets to see Lancelot like this, with his guard down. Not that he’s ever _completely_ relaxed, his history in the military making that more or less impossible, but there’s a peacefulness to his countenance that isn’t there when he knows he’s being observed. He’s the Captain of the White Dragons, after all, so he has to put on an image of unbreakable steel.

Such a big burden for shoulders as slim as Lancelot’s. Vane doesn’t doubt he can handle it - his boyfriend is both the coolest and the strongest person in the world, after all - but he’s glad that he can help, as vice captain.

Lancelot glances at Vane, who quickly squeezes his eyes shut. Too hard, as it turns out, because Lancelot shuts the book and sighs. “If you’re just going to pretend to be asleep, I’ll leave,” he says, exaggerated hurt in his voice, and Vane whines in protest, reaching out with his good arm.

“You were so cute, I couldn’t help myself. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t do the same!” Vane’s attempt at petulance is swept away as soon as Lancelot takes his hand, replaced with his usual sunny smile. “Whatcha reading?”

“That’s a secret.” Lancelot has already put the book away in his bag, a triumphant spark gleaming in his eyes as Vane cranes his neck to try to read the title to discover it’s already gone. “It’s not anything exciting, though. It’d probably just put you right back to sleep.”

“Then why were you reading it?” Vane grumbles, but drops the subject before he can get an answer. “Anyway, did you swing by my office and get those cookies? Since you didn’t have to be there for paperwork or anything.”

Lancelot laughs, squeezing his hand. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t think of any other excuse.”

“You could’ve just said you were worried about me.”

“No, I couldn’t. You’re remarkably bad at taking care of yourself, Vane.”

Lancelot’s tone is conversational, but Vane feels like he’s just been punched. What is that supposed to mean? Perhaps sensing his ire, Lancelot continues, gesturing to Vane’s broken legs.

“This...is a long-held fear of mine.” His voice is soft, as though he’s trying to downplay it. “Death is always a matter of when, but I have never had any doubt about _how_ it is you’ll die, Vane. It will be while trying to help someone else. You give so much of yourself...and I’ve always admired that about you. It’s not a bad thing, to be selfless.” Lancelot brings Vane’s hand to his lips, kissing it. “But you are recklessly so, and it could have killed you. I...don’t know if I should be telling you this, but...” He laughs again, but it’s hollow and heavy. “I really thought you were dead, you know. When I saw you on the ground."

Vane has been mulling a response over in his head, but his thoughts all freeze when Lancelot makes his sullen confession.

“Those two days you were unconscious, I agonized over the possibility that you’d never wake up, because it’s happened in my nightmares so many times...you take a blow for me and I lose you forever. I can barely sleep every time you come home hurt, and you've never been hurt this badly before.” He does his best to give Vane a smile, but somehow it just manages to make him look even more upset, especially now that Vane is acutely aware of the dark circles under his eyes. “I’ve tried to pretend everything is alright now, but it isn’t. You’re not alright. I’m not alright.” His grip on Vane’s hand is like a vice, as though he’s afraid he’ll disappear if they let go of each other. “And I knew you were in more pain than you were letting on yesterday, so hearing you say it wasn’t a big deal wasn’t alright either. Not to me.” He shakes his head, voice and hands both trembling. “I thought I could deal with everything myself, but seeing you give so much of yourself, to such an extent…to see you like _this,_ because of me…”

One of Vane’s long-held fears is on the verge of happening too, if the wet sheen over Lancelot’s eyes is any indication. He sits up a bit straighter, his voice desperate as he finally formulates his reply. “Lancey,” he starts, before correcting himself. “Lancelot.” This is something that merits a rare use of his full name. “It’s not your fault, okay? The one who jumped in and got hurt was me.”

He’s not good with words, not the way Lancelot is, but he has to at least try.

“If I see you in danger...I’d rather be dead than alive without you. So of course I’m gonna do everything I can to protect you.” He glances at Lancelot, but his icy expression gives nothing away, so Vane keeps talking. “But...I guess it’s probably the same for you too, huh?”

That gets a reaction - a curt nod, a squeeze of Vane’s hand. Lancelot still doesn’t trust his voice not to give out on him.

“I don’t think either of us is gonna be able to do anything about that. But, listen. Let me tell you a secret. I’ve always had my death all figured out too. I’m gonna die an old man, the same day that you do, after spending a long life with my husband. Not that you’re my husband yet, but...actually, do you want to get married? We could do that.”

Lancelot waits several seconds for Vane to keep speaking, absolutely certain he could not have _possibly_ just seriously proposed with three broken limbs in a _hospital bed_ of all places. When it doesn’t happen, he opens his mouth to reply and all that comes out is bewildered laughter. The tears in his eyes spill over down his cheeks, and Vane isn’t sure whether he should be concerned or relieved. “That’s,” Lancelot finally manages to gasp in between giggles, wiping his eyes. “Of course I’ll marry you, but couldn’t you have tried something a little more romantic?”

“Nope.” Vane shakes his head. “Because I realized I’ve sorta been taking that idea for granted, you know? I can’t promise I’ll be able to stop myself from doing something like this again, so if I really do die next time, I don’t wanna regret never marrying you, Lancelot.”

“This is a mess,” Lancelot mutters bitterly. “That’s the exact opposite of what I wanted to hear. Aside from the proposal,” he adds as an afterthought, giving Vane an apologetic tilt of the head. “But I suppose I expected this. I didn’t fall in love with you for being easily swayed, after all.” The smile on his face is still sad, the way his hair hangs in his eyes only adding to the effect. “Just...please, promise me...that you’ll do everything you can to make that premonition of yours a reality.”

It hurts to make such a somber concession, to admit there really and truly isn’t anything he can do to keep Vane from being so cheerfully willing to maim himself for the sake of the people he loves. He could keep arguing, tell Vane he’s an idiot until his voice was hoarse, but what would that accomplish? He said it himself, more than a week ago - he hadn’t even been thinking when he threw himself in front of Lancelot, hadn’t even realized what he’d done until after he hit the ground. Lancelot is the captain of a brigade, so he understands better than most that behavior can be conditioned, but someone’s nature can’t. And it’s in Vane’s nature to always, always put others before himself.

Vane makes an exaggerated straining noise, a bid for attention as he leans forward as far as he can, looking expectant. Lancelot gives in all too easily, kissing him warmly, sighing against his lips as his anxiety slightly loosens its grip on him. It’s hard to be upset while Vane lavishes affection on him like this.

“Sorry,” Vane murmurs as they pull apart.

“For what?” Lancelot kisses his forehead.

“For not telling you what you wanted to hear.”

“You can make it up to me by wearing your tie right at our wedding.” Lancelot grins at him, the first genuine smile he’s managed all day, as Vane stammers a retort about ties being needlessly difficult. “And by getting better as soon as you can, of course.” He glances out toward the door to make sure no one is there to tell him what he’s about to do is stupid, then slides onto the bed next to Vane. Half his body hangs off the edge unless he very precisely lays on his side, but Vane’s single functioning arm automatically moves around his shoulder and holds him in place against his chest.

“Mm...as soon as my legs work well enough to move around in bed, you should come take naps with me, Lancey. It’s lonely sleeping without you.” Vane runs his fingers through Lancelot's hair, slightly amazed as always about how soft it is.

Lancelot smiles, leaning into his touch. “I’d love to, but I have to work. In case you’d forgotten, my vice captain is in the hospital.”

Vane snorts. “What an idiot.”

Lancelot nestles against him, finding comfort in Vane’s solid, strong heartbeat. “Yes, he’s an idiot. But he’s mine, and I love him, so I won’t let you insult him.”

Lancelot leaves as visiting hours end, after being awoken from the nap he ended up taking anyway by a nurse adamant that extra weight against Vane’s ribs isn’t conducive to the healing process. His back is sore from sleeping in an uncomfortable position, but the sleepy smile on Vane’s face as he bids him goodbye is worth every disconcerting crack as he rolls his shoulder and the pins and needles as he shakes feeling back into his arm.

“See you tomorrow, Lancey,” Vane calls, waving lazily as the nurse checks his vitals.

For once, he’s glad to take the painkillers they give him, because otherwise it’d be unbearable to go back to sleep after losing the warmth of Lancelot next to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i ended up writing something that was cute again but the last chapter is gonna be filth. im sorry


End file.
